


and we thought that the sky was clear (the calm before a storm)

by kyrilu



Category: House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff, Gen, Kissing, Missing Scene, Morning After, Multi, Possessive Behavior, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1215850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrilu/pseuds/kyrilu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a beautiful day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and we thought that the sky was clear (the calm before a storm)

Edward wakes up with a slight headache pressing at the back of his temples. A glance at the digital bedside clock tells him that it’s a little after three o’clock.  Early.

He forces himself to stare at the ceiling. He can’t bring himself to look at the two sleeping figures beside him. This is -- this is what, the stuff of tabloid fodder? Something unbelievable and completely out of line?  He knows that he was the one who settled his hand over Mr. Underwood’s; he knows that he’s the one who stayed by Mrs. Underwood, drinking in her words and laughter like the alcohol he’d been downing.

He touches his forehead and muffles a groan.

“Edward?” he hears a soft voice say, and he sees Mrs. Underwood, stirring. 

Almost immediately, he finds himself grinning at her, rueful. “You can’t get a man drunk and expect him not to have a hangover, Mrs. Underwood.”

She laughs, a low sleepy sound.  “My apologies. There’s aspirin on the bedside.” She gestures to the small drawer on Edward’s left. “And call me Claire, Edward. I believe we’ve reached the point where we can be on a first name basis.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not too bad. I think I’ll be fine. I'm sorry for waking you." He tries out her name in his mouth, "Claire."

That makes her smile. Mrs. Underwood - Claire - reaches forward, runs her fingers through his hair as if she could make his headache go away that way. Edward stiffens, almost recoiling, but there's something about her touch that makes him relax. Lean into it.

"See?" she says. "You said it. Not so hard."

"It's not exactly professional," he says, although there really wasn't anything professional about last night at all. He adds, "Mr. Underwood calls me Meechum still."

That makes her laugh again. "No, he doesn't. He's called you Edward when we've talked in private."

"Are we really doing this?" he asks her, quietly. "Ma'am. Just say the word and I'll go. It's not..."

She silences him with a kiss. It's a light touch of her mouth, and then she deepens the kiss. He wants to breathe, _Don't,_ against her mouth, but he's caught up, he's kissing back, letting her pull him toward her with a tug of his hair.

When she finally does stop, she turns to Mr. Underwood, who’s blinking his eyes open and looking at them with a kind of openness that Edward thinks he doesn’t see often from his employer – a sort of softening around his eyes.

“Always missing the party with you two,” Mr. Underwood says. “Good morning, Claire, Edward. It’s awfully early right now. Are you alright?”

“Edward here is suffering an unfortunate bout of veisalgia,” Claire says, and she _winks._

“What an interesting choice for a hangover cure,” Mr. Underwood drawls. “How unusual.”

And before Edward can get a word in edgewise, Mr. Underwood reaches over Claire (who obligingly shifts over), reaches out to put a hand underneath Edward’s chin. Eye contact.

“Look at me, Meechum,” he says, and Edward nearly jolts at the sudden seriousness in his voice. Edward feels as if his breath is caught in his throat, as if he’s a small insect hovering over a bright light.

Mr. Underwood says, “I overheard you talking to Claire about backing away from this. You are perfectly in your rights to say no. But you need to understand one thing: _We will protect you now._ We will do whatever in our power to keep this confidential, to keep you out of whatever harm that may come to you. You can trust us.”

Claire nods, and she says, in a firm murmur, “Edward, you know the nature of politics. We can _destroy_ anything that comes in our way. Any means necessary. You’re ours.”

Edward looks at them, and he finds himself laughing. An unbalanced, surprised sound that he can’t control. He says, “Sir, ma’am, I’m your _bodyguard._ I’m supposed to be protecting you.”

“You do,” Mr. Underwood says. “And I couldn’t be any more proud, or satisfied. But we protect you, too.” His hand underneath Edward’s chin is gentle, a finger stroking back and forth.

Edward opens his mouth to speak, but he changes his mind last minute. He realizes something. He realizes that everything that’s happened has been leading up to…whatever this is. That he likes Mr. and Mrs. Underwood so much that he can’t object, and that he wants to stay here with them. In bed with them, touching, teasing, all of it.

“Thank you,” he manages, and Mr. Underwood’s fingers dance up to his cheeks, holding him in place. Edward hesitates, then closes the distance between them.

It’s like last night.

Leaning in, shutting his eyes, and letting his doubts fade away.

They draw apart. Out loud, Edward says Mr. Underwood’s name, wondering if it’s all right. When it comes out as _Francis_ , Claire lets out a delighted little laugh, reaching out to run her fingers through Edward’s hair, and Francis smiles.

 

 

Later, when they get dressed, Edward pulls on yesterday’s suit, then picks up an unfamiliar tie. He says to Mr. Underwood, “This isn’t my tie, sir.” 

Mr. Underwood turns to him. The cufflinks that Edward gave him flash in the light. He gives Edward an enigmatic smile, and says, “I know.”


End file.
